A magical journey that begins at Hogwarts

"This is something we really need to think about carefully; it's enough to last for centuries," Gandalf said. "If it succeeds."

Aaron shrugged, then turned around and glanced at the crowd. "Hasn't Bilbo caught up yet?"

“I don’t think he’ll come,” Dwarin said. “After all, our enemy is a dragon, and the wilderness is not suitable for docile people who cannot defend themselves.”

“I think he will come,” Aaron said with a mysterious smile. “I have never misjudged anyone.”

"Kids all like to act profound."

How old are you? Fifteen? Or sixteen?

"To be precise... thirteen years old."

"What?" Dvalin's pupils widened slightly, and he almost fell off his horse. "You dare to say you've never misjudged anyone at the age of thirteen?"

"Age is not important; our team has people of all ages."

I'm probably only a little younger than the second-to-last person—no, younger, that's all.

“How about we make a bet!” Nori shouted. “Let’s bet on whether Mr. Baggins will catch up.”

I bet he won't.

Aaron immediately said, "I bet he'll come."

"I have no problem with you betting on him, but Gaius, do you have the money?"

Aaron rummaged through his pockets and pulled out five gold coins. "That's all I have."

The gold coins gleamed brightly in the sunlight. Nori looked at Aaron with some frustration. "I take back what I just said. You're probably the richest one among us."

Aaron: ......

"No way!"

“I only have a dozen or so silver coins and a few copper coins on me,” Gandalf said enviously, “while you have enough money to live a carefree life in Middle-earth for a month.”

"Heh! It's quite pathetic that a wizard has fallen to such a state."

“So you have to do a side hustle every now and then.” Gandalf chuckled awkwardly. “I bet Bilbo will catch up.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, having given up hope for Gandalf's integrity.

......

As the group was about to emerge from a grove of trees, a familiar voice came from behind.

"Etc., etc!"

Bilbo caught up, panting heavily, with a contract in his hand.

"I signed it."

Notary Barin took the contract and confidently examined the signature with his eyes. "Everything is verified to be correct. Welcome, young master Baggins, to Thorin Oakenshield's ranks."

“Great, Bilbo, I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” Aaron said excitedly. “Your great-great-great-uncle would be proud of your decision too.”

“Give him a pony,” Thorin said casually.

Bilbo's smile froze instantly, and he immediately waved his hand, saying, "No need to trouble yourself, thank you, I can keep up on foot."

I often go hiking, and once I even walked all the way to Frog Village.

As he spoke, two large hands lifted him up, one on each side, and before he knew it, he was already on the back of a brown-red horse.

“I can tell this is your first time riding a horse,” Aaron said, looking at Bilbo carefully holding the reins. “But don’t worry, the pony is quite gentle.”

If you're riding Gandalf's horse, you'd better be careful; it's the biggest one.

"Pay up, Nori," Ou Yin reminded from the back of the line.

As soon as he finished speaking, a money bag landed in his hand, and soon a second and a third were thrown out as well.

"Ha ha!"

"Thanks, brother."

"What's going on?" Bilbo asked, puzzled.

"They're betting on whether you'll show up; most people are betting you won't."

"Then what do you think?"

boom!

Gandalf suddenly reached out and grabbed the money bag that was flying towards him. "My dear friend, I have never doubted you."

Aaron grabbed his purse and shrugged at him. "There's one thing you have to believe me about. I believe you more than Gandalf."

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief, then suddenly sneezed.

“It’s horsehair, I’m allergic.” Bilbo said, patting his body. After a moment, his expression changed slightly. “Oh no, wait a minute, stop.”

"What's wrong?" Aaron asked warily. "What did you find?"

"I forgot to bring my handkerchief."

Aaron: ......

"In that instant, I suddenly realized that it would be good for you to stay in Bag End."

“Use this one.” Boff tossed him his handkerchief.

Bilbo looked at the brown rag in his hand—no, the handkerchief—with some disdain, but he had no choice but to make do with it.

“You have to get used to not having a handkerchief, and other things, Bilbo Baggins, before our journey ends.”

You were born in the hills and streams of the Shire, but your home is now behind you, and the world is before you.

......

The expedition set off in the morning, passing through forests, climbing hills, and crossing plains surrounded by streams, before stopping only as night fell.

The group rested on a cliff face and split into two groups to take turns keeping watch at night.

Groin's snores rose and fell, and with each breath, tiny flying insects would flit in and out of his nostrils.

"I really admire him, I admire him from the bottom of my heart." Aaron said, sitting by the fire, somewhat speechless. "He can sleep so soundly even surrounded by a bunch of bugs."

Bilbo got up, feeling a bit tired. He regretted being grouped with Groin.

His snoring was so loud that he had a hard time falling asleep.

He quietly walked up to his pony, took a fruit out of his pocket, and said, "Here, Little Peach, this is our secret."

Just as the hobbits were feeding their mounts, strange noises came from afar.

"what is that?"

“A half-orc,” Kiri said.

"Orcs." ×2.

Aaron immediately stood up and cautiously looked around.

Bilbo also retreated into the group in a panic. He had never seen an orc in his life, but both the books and the records left by old Tuk told of the orcs' ferocity.

“At least several dozen throat-slitters.” Philip took a puff of his cigarette. “They’re everywhere in the fields. They’ll strike when everyone’s asleep in the middle of the night.”

"Quick and precise, silent and stealthy, leaving only bloodstains," Qi Li added, his expression grave yet seemingly indifferent.

“If what you’re saying is true… then we’re in big trouble.” Aaron swallowed hard and pointed to the other side of the cliff, separated by a deep abyss. “There are dozens of throat-slitters over there.”

"Are you kidding me?" Philip said dismissively. "It's so late at night, and there's a foggy area hundreds of meters in between. How can you possibly see the other side?"

“It’s a little difficult to see clearly, but my eyesight is several times better than the average person’s,” Aaron said seriously. “There are indeed some tall shadows on the other side.”

Philip and Kiri exchanged a smile, tacitly agreeing that Aaron was hallucinating from fright.

"Okay, okay, we believe you."

"No, I'm serious, can you guys be serious?"

"We're very serious."

"Is it funny?" Thorin asked coldly. "You think the orcs' night raid is a joke?"

"We didn't mean that," Qi Li said, lowering his head guiltily.

“That’s right, you know nothing about the world.”

“Don’t mind him, young man.” Balin walked over. “Thorin has a good reason for hating orcs.”

After the dragon occupied Lonely Mountain, King Thor attempted to reclaim the dwarven kingdom of Moria, but the enemy arrived first.

Moria has fallen to a massive army, led by the most terrifying orcs, Azog the Destroyer.

The enormous Gandharva orc vowed to sever the bloodline of Turin, and he decided to begin by beheading the king.

Thorne, Thorin's father, went mad with grief and disappeared; it is unknown whether he was killed or captured.

We were leaderless, utterly defeated, and shrouded in death.

Balin looked dejected, and everyone turned to look at Thorin, who had his back to them. Even Groin, who had been fast asleep, opened his eyes.

My grandfather was beheaded by the orcs, my father disappeared in the war, and my people were all killed or wounded in the battle against the orcs.

If dragons are a destined natural disaster, then orcs are a real, irreconcilable personal and national grudge!

“That’s when I saw him.” A smile appeared on Balin’s face. “The young dwarf prince was fighting to the death against the pale orc, facing a terrifying enemy alone.”

"It must be tough!" Aaron couldn't help but ask.

"He was wearing tattered armor and picked up oak branches to defend himself against the attack."

"So that's why he's called Oak Shield?"

“Yes.” Balin nodded. “The Destroyer Azog had one arm cut off. He learned that day that the bloodline of Turin would not be easily severed.”

We regrouped, repelled the orcs, and defeated the enemy.

But there was no victory celebration or singing that night, because the death toll was so high and the tragedy was so great that only a few of us survived.

At that time, I secretly thought to myself, I am willing to follow an individual, I am willing to call him king.

As soon as he finished speaking, all the dwarves stood up solemnly, their respect for Thorin reaching its peak.

"I have a question: Is Azog really dead?"